


We All Need Someone To Hold

by jacksparrow589



Series: The js589 Shirbert Soundtrack [2]
Category: Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Sharing a Bed, Shirbert, supportive Shirbert, they really are the best T E A M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:48:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24379735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jacksparrow589/pseuds/jacksparrow589
Summary: One moment, everything was fine. The next, there was an ungodly metal screeching and several rumbling roars. The car jolted to a stop, throwing Gilbert, who had stupidly started to stand, against the top of the seat. He let out a yelp cut off with a gasp as pain burst from the point of contact, and collapsed back onto the seat. He shifted toward the window with a grimace, knowing what he would see, and knowing that he didn't want to see it.Gilbert sat up with a groan, wincing as his ribs protested the sudden movement. At least the dream hadn't gotten as far as showing him the wreckage. Still, even without closing his eyes, he could see it far too clearly. Maybe he should have asked Anne to stay...-------After a horrific accident mars the first weeks of their first summer as a courting couple, Gilbert comes back to Avonlea to heal. Anne, as ever, is by his side. Told from Gilbert's POV.
Relationships: Diana Barry & Anne Shirley, Gilbert Blythe & Delphine Lacroix & Sebastian "Bash" Lacroix, Gilbert Blythe/Anne Shirley
Series: The js589 Shirbert Soundtrack [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1728880
Comments: 19
Kudos: 87





	We All Need Someone To Hold

**Author's Note:**

> Song of the Story: "Someone to Stay" by Vancouver Sleep Clinic.
> 
> CONTENT WARNING: While not too graphic, this story does go into more detail about Gilbert's memories of the train accident. Gilbert has a couple panic attacks and, on one occasion, stress-vomits. Most of this is in the latter third of Saturday, so if this content is distressing, you should be able to skip that little bit and mostly be fine.
> 
> I also opted not to write in graphic detail about the death and injury at the incident. I am not comfortable with writing that, and I think Gilbert would be trying hard to focus on anything else.
> 
> If you have not read "Burning Like a Fire Gone Wild", go back and read that first, as this story references events from that one. This story starts on the Friday when Gilbert makes it back to Charlottetown

_**Friday** _

It had been far too long. Longer than it should have been, really.

Gilbert was weary; he needed rest, but not just yet. Not until...

There she was. Anne— _his_ Anne—sat on the bench, just as Cole had promised. She was reading a book (of course she was) and there was a daisy tucked into her hair (of course there was), and she didn't seem to hear him approaching just yet.

"I'm afraid I'm still not good company..." Anne broke off with a gasp as she looked up at him.

Both because it was true and because she needed to hear it, Gilbert told her, "You'll be far better company than anyone I've spent the last few days with."

Anne was on her feet and her arms were around him in an instant. They were both crying, and though some of Gilbert's tears could be attributed to pain, most of them were relief and the last few days catching up to him at last.

He felt a pang of shame as Anne told him how incredibly scared she'd been. This hadn't been fair to her, he knew, and so he found himself apologizing as he'd promised he would. Mercifully, Anne seemed to accept his apology for the moment. Her grip on him loosened just a bit, but he wasn't at all ready to let go when, as it had been doing every so often, the realization that being just two train cars ahead might have meant that he'd never see Anne or Avonlea ever again reared its ugly head. He clutched Anne just a little tighter, and when she went in for a kiss, he responded eagerly.

A bit too eagerly, he realized, hissing in pain.

"Gilbert!" Anne's concern was back in full force. "Is everything alright?"

He'd known that Anne would ask about his injuries sooner or later, and the pain in her eyes as he described them was indeed as he had feared. She put on a brave face as she half-teased about enthusiastic embraces, but the concern was still there, and he had the sinking feeling that nothing he could say would really make it go away; like the pain, it would take time for it to fade.

Cole, at least, was himself. Possibly even a little more so. The two young men had had chances to talk in passing during the last year, but their interactions had been short. Cole seemed comfortable and relaxed now in ways he hadn't been back in Avonlea. Gilbert was glad to see it. Anne and Diana's unabashed relief and sympathy were expected and not at all unwelcome, but Cole's teasing was a reminder that life was going to go on, and that, too, was something he needed at the moment.

_Speaking of things I need…_ Miss Barry's mention of food had Gilbert's stomach growling, and he was sure it had to be audible, and it was only the politeness of the present company that was his saving grace. He only just managed to remember to use proper table manners and not just lift the plate and shovel the meal in wholesale. Still, the effort to maintain some semblance of civility, not to mention the stress of the day's travel, had exhaustion crashing down on him by the end of it. 

Nothing less than the consummate hostess, even with the week's events, Aunt Jo had promptly dismissed Gilbert (along with Anne to escort him to his room) nearly as soon as he'd finished his meal and requested to be excused. Anne was quiet on the short walk, clearly noting Gilbert's state and seeming as though she was evaluating her options.

Gilbert made the decision to request being alone. It wasn't one he liked, but it was the most sensible one at the moment.

Anne's "sleep well" nearly had him wincing at the unlikelihood of such an occurrence, but he'd tell her later. For now, she didn't need to worry, and really, it was the thought that counted.

He only just managed to get his shoes and jacket off and his waistcoat unbuttoned before carefully collapsing onto the bed and letting sleep claim him to do what it would.

* * *

_One moment, everything was fine. The next, there was an ungodly metal screeching and several rumbling roars. The car jolted to a stop, throwing Gilbert, who had stupidly started to stand, against the top of the seat. He let out a yelp cut off with a gasp as pain burst from the point of contact, and collapsed back onto the seat. He shifted toward the window with a grimace, knowing what he would see, and knowing that he didn't want to see it._

* * *

Gilbert sat up with a groan, wincing as his ribs protested the sudden movement. At least the dream hadn't gotten as far as showing him the wreckage. Still, even without closing his eyes, he could see it far too clearly. Maybe he should have asked Anne to stay...

He shook his head and checked his pocket watch. Supper would be served soon. He re-buttoned his waistcoat and pulled his jacket back on, trying not to make any noise of pain. At least he'd be able to see Anne again. She didn't make everything go away, but her mere presence certainly had a muting effect on all the unpleasant things swirling in the back of his mind.

As he opened the door to his room, he was surprised to find Cole just starting to raise a hand to knock. Instead, the other young man offered his hand. "Had a pleasant rest?"

Gilbert took Cole's hand and shook it once. "No, but not for lack of accommodations."

Cole winced in sympathy. "We knew it had to be bad, but it really was, wasn't it?"

"It was." Gilbert saw no reason to hide the truth.

Cole hesitated for a moment as they began to walk down the hall. "I still feel compelled to tell you that Anne deserved word sooner than she got it. But I understand why you especially would feel like you couldn't take a break. You really are a good person. So I know that when you're able, you'll make it up to her."

Gilbert nodded. "I know, Cole. I will."

"But I also know that Anne will be there for you. She might not know this particular tragedy, but she's no stranger to the concept in general." They'd come to a stop at the top of the stairs. Cole's gaze flickered aside for a moment, lost in thought. He shook his head and continued, "So please, now that you can talk with her, don't shut her out. For her sake as much as yours."

Gilbert didn't quite know what to say. It wouldn't have occurred to him not to talk with Anne in any event, but he supposed Cole couldn't know that. Still, it made him wonder whether Cole's directive was motivated by something Anne had said, or something Cole himself had experienced. Maybe both. Finally, he settled on "Don't worry; that was always my plan."

One side of Cole's lips twitched upward. "Thought so, but as Anne's friend, I have to be sure. Still… I'm glad. That that's your plan, and that you're here."

Gilbert gave him a genuine smile. "Thanks, Cole."

* * *

Were he not still so exhausted, Gilbert would have been giddy. Aunt Jo had effectively given them an unchaperoned evening. Then again, his and Anne's current states were probably why. Gilbert's plans for the evening really only consisted of two things: Holding Anne in his arms, and not letting go. And talking, he supposed, if he could manage it through the bleary haze brought on by finally being safely home, or at least, with the person who always felt like home no matter where they were.

Still, his heart gave a tiny, nervously joyous leap as Anne closed the door to his room after they'd both entered. He couldn't quite believe this was real, given how the rest of his week had gone.

And then, Anne stepped forward to wrap her arms around him, and Gilbert was reassured of how wonderfully real this was. He only really just managed to keep tears from falling again, too tired to want to deal with falling apart right now, and bolstered enough by Anne's presence to keep himself together.

Even so, his breath was shaky, as was Anne's, and as if by unspoken agreement, they held each other until they calmed down. It took less time than Gilbert expected, and he was left wondering if there was some way to bottle a hug to be used in cases of extreme distress.

Then again, there likely was no substitute for the real thing, he thought as he removed his jacket and untied his shoes while Anne unlaced her boots. Anne, despite her excitement, her _joie de vivre_ , somehow always made him feel at peace. He didn't have to worry about being who she wanted, because she already loved who he was.

Still, he'd had to deal with his grief on his own so much of the time that, even with the unfortunate "practice" they'd had dealing with Mary's imminent passing those many months ago, it wasn't entirely coming naturally to him. Sure, he'd cried with Bash, but it hadn't been the same. The experience hadn't threatened their lives like the train wreck had, and the senseless loss of others, though strangers, had been magnified both by the sheer numbers and by his attending to them. It was exactly the fear he'd voiced to Anne, only worse.

Anne must have felt his tension rising when she curled into his right side, because the first thing she said was "You don't… have to talk about it if you don't want to."

Gilbert sighed. "If I don't, you're going to worry." He didn't want to dwell on it too much, but Anne would certainly worry, and the idea of talking with her was, like her embrace, calming. "The moment itself is clear as day, but the rest is a blur, to be honest, and I'd like to keep it that way. I knew… that I was going to come out of it fine, but that meant that I helped people who didn't. People who were going to be disfigured. People who were going to die. It was easier than I'd expected in some ways, but even so..." He rolled to his side when Anne pulled his head down to her shoulder. He wasn't sure how long he'd be able to stay like this, but he'd keep it up for as long as he could.

Just a spark of anger rose in him when Anne reminded him that he had life to live yet. _But why should I have been granted that when others weren't_ , a small, dark part of his brain whispered. He squeezed his eyes shut and burrowed further into Anne's shoulder, breathing deeply. The feel of her hair against his cheek and her hand in his, a vaguely floral scent still clinging to her from her afternoon in the garden, and her low, thoughtful voice reminded him that this was reality; that there was so much worth living for yet. And as she spoke only in the vaguest terms of her own painful past, he was reminded that he wasn't the only one who needed care and consideration, and that he could be— _wanted_ to be—that comfort for her as much as she was for him.

His ribs had started to ache more strongly now, and he took his head from Anne's shoulder to lie down. "I think… it'll be easier when the physical pain goes away." He waited for Anne to join him before continuing. "I hit the edge of a seat during the crash—that's when my ribs got bruised. My wrist… I didn't sleep very much and worked myself into exhaustion—" he heard her take a breath and kept going before she could say anything. "I know, you don't need to tell me off for it; believe me, I heard an earful from Martin after he found me when I was lying on a cot, and then from Dr. Oak when she showed up to work a shift. Apparently, I'd been on my feet so long that I just sort of…" he winced "keeled over and landed on my arm. I was out for maybe ten seconds, but that was enough to put me on bed rest for a day. Unfortunately, the quality of bed rest on a cot in an overwhelmed hospital is… subpar." He yawned. "I don't think I've slept more than a couple of hours at a stretch, but I plan to make up for it tonight."

His heart leapt just a little as Anne's head nuzzled just a little more into his shoulder. Quietly, she explained, "I didn't sleep much those first two nights, either. The third night, I was… too tired to sleep? And last night, I was too excited to sleep well. But now, as much as I just want to stay here with you, I don't know that I'll be able to stay awake." 

He wasn't sure whether he should suggest it before, but that last admission that she wanted to stay gave Gilbert the courage to, after a few steadying breaths, put forward in a near-whisper, "You could stay here anyway." 

The look Anne gave him was not one of outrage or immediate rejection, but Anne was clearly having an internal debate about the idea, and Gilbert shook his head, feeling stupid and just a little ashamed. "Sorry, I didn't mean to suggest anything untoward—" 

Anne cut in smoothly. "I know it's not meant to be untoward. I just… was going to ask if you didn't," she admitted quietly. 

Thoughts were whizzing through Gilbert's head faster than he could consciously process them, but most of them were some variety of extremely warm feeling towards Anne. She was looking at him expectantly, though, and the only response he could manage was a completely inelegant, almost croaky "Ah."

Anne sat up and informed him she was going to go change. Gilbert hadn't really thought about it, but sleeping a whole night in traveling clothes was not an appealing proposition for him, never mind the layers Anne must be wearing.

Gingerly, he sat up and set about changing, his heart still hammering in his chest. For as much as Aunt Jo had been about as clear as she could be while maintaining plausible deniability, it had certainly sounded like she'd been saying she'd look the other way. And Anne… she'd accepted with so little hesitation. She'd even said that she would have asked if he hadn't! 

_"Most people would consider themselves lucky to have a sweetheart even half as caring and understanding and concerned as Anne is!"_

Martin's words had rung true at the time, of course, but now that he was here in the flesh, he could feel them in everything—her words, the way she looked at him, even the way she held him. It was precisely what he'd been needing: her tender and soothing and reassuring presence.

He'd meant it when he'd written the note and left it and the pen in her room (a transcendental experience of its own—her room had been so completely and utterly _hers_ that the mere memory of its atmosphere made him smile) but the truth that he _would_ ask Anne to marry him someday when they were ready was settling over him. It was seeping through every pore of his skin, searing through his heart and brain and every vessel and fiber of muscle and settling into his bones, and for just a moment, he forgot to breathe.

Still, until then, there were rules that they wouldn't break. He was not feeling at all capable of breaking them tonight, anyway, but when Anne came back, he wanted it to be perfectly clear to her that his intentions towards her were the same as they'd been before this opportunity had presented itself. 

The thought that, given the question he'd been asked last year, Anne might not be entirely aware of what any less-honorable intentions might entail was surprisingly all the more incentive to pull a more worn pair of trousers from his trunk and don those over his sleepwear. 

He cracked the door and was setting clothing out for the next day when Anne returned. Swallowing a lump in his throat that he knew shouldn't be there, Gilbert opened the door and beckoned her in. Or he would have beckoned had he not been struck by the sight of her.

She didn't have to be wearing a silk-and-lace night gown or have her hair only half-undone so that he could release the other half (not that the idea did not hold significant future appeal); her homey robe and the cotton nightdress underneath and her only very loosely plaited hair only strengthened his vision of a future where this was the routine rather than something that they had to hide and sneak and trust would not be revealed. 

Gilbert only just managed to break out of his reverie when Anne removed her robe and crawled under the coverlet on the bed. He joined her, settling his hand lightly on her waist before moving to her back and rubbing lazy, light circles there as her fingers created a smaller version of the same pattern on his scalp. 

_I could get used to this._

_No, I already have._

Biting back a rueful sigh, Gilbert leaned in for one last kiss, noting Anne's hesitation and accordingly pressing no closer than he needed to brush her lips with his.

They whispered their good nights, and Anne blew out the candle at her bedside before rolling back over to take Gilbert's good hand in hers for a moment. Gilbert wanted to press her hand as she did his, but he was already drifting off.

* * *

* * *

_**Saturday** _

_"What the hell were you thinking?!" Martin yelled. "Oh, that's right: you weren't. You came from a crash site where you were injured, then you worked through the night, claim to have slept for more than two hours like you think I'd possibly believe you when I at least know you well enough to know that you don't sleep when something's bothering you. You throw yourself into whatever you can and you forget that life outside of that one thing exists. Dedication is admirable, but keeping up this pace is going to cost you. It's already costing you your health. It might yet cost you Anne." He sighed. "Be grateful it's me and not her you're having this conversation with, by the way. She sent a telegram asking after you because you couldn't be bothered to take an hour break to see if she'd tried to reach out or to let her know that you were alright. Were you just hoping she'd figure it out because your name wasn't published in the paper? That maybe she'd come and find you if you're too busy or—God forbid, because she certainly doesn't know—injured to come to her?"_

_Gilbert turned to look at the wall, the ceiling… anywhere else but Martin's face. The the idea hadn't occurred to him so consciously, but he'd very pointedly not given himself the time to think about it. The guilt of not having sent word to Bash was easier to bear for some reason, and he'd accepted that, but knowing what Anne must be thinking hurt worse than it had when someone had accidentally jostled his side earlier. The knowledge that he could and should have sent word earlier gnawed at him, but he wasn't going to give Martin the satisfaction—no, he wasn't going to give himself the dissatisfaction of admitting it. The person who deserved his apology wasn't here, anyway._

_Before he could say that he intended to head back to Avonlea on the next train he could catch, a hand snapped in front of his face. He jumped._

_"So you're not catatonic. Just bull-headed." Dr. Oak was standing over him. "They said you didn't hit your head when you collapsed, but keep staring like that, and people might think you did." She tossed her head. "I could hear Martin's ranting from down the hall, so I'll spare you most of mine since I'm sure you've got worse waiting for you back in Avonlea, but keep this particular brand of idiocy up, and I can guarantee you won't like the results in any area of your life." She and Martin helped him sit, then stand. When they were satisfied he wasn't going to do a repeat performance of crumpling to the floor as he had hours earlier, Dr. Oak put a hand firmly on Gilbert's shoulder and started steering him down the corridor. "This isn't the way to deal with this kind of tragedy, Gilbert, noble as your intentions were. You'd do well to come up with a better strategy. You can't rely on a letter that will come next week or someone you won't see for months when your problems are more immediate. When I see you in the autumn, I expect a change in perspective." They'd reached the hospital entrance._

_Gilbert turned to face his advisor. "Sorry, Doctor Oak."_

_She almost smiled. "I'm very far down on the list of people who need an apology right now. Go home, make those apologies first, and then send me a telegram when you've finished with that."_

_Gilbert nodded, shook her hand, and turned to walk out the hospital doors, Martin on his heels._

* * *

For a moment, Gilbert wasn't sure where he was when he opened his eyes. Then, he caught sight of the red hair splayed out on the pillow in front of him. It was another moment before he was convinced he wasn't back on that hospital cot in Toronto imagining this.

It was light now—the light of early morning rather than late evening. He really had slept a full night. It was his first in a week. He'd hoped to at least doze most of the train ride, but even hours after crossing the Rouge River, he'd struggled to calm his heart and keep his breath deep and measured, rather than quick and gasping. Every time he'd nodded off, the ungodly sounds and sights and smells of the wreck yanked him back into consciousness, and the blast of the train's whistle and squeal of the brakes set his heart pounding every time.

But every unpleasant feeling had disappeared for the briefest of seconds when he saw Anne. It had come back swiftly, but not as overwhelmingly now that he was here and able to see her, to touch her. He was reaching for her shoulder, but he thought the better of it. Anne wasn't the latest riser—it had to be early still. Instead, he started breathing in time with her, taking deep, even breaths that had his eyes flickering back shut after a few minutes. 

Still, sleep was eluding him now. He thought briefly, about grabbing one of his books, but it would just be one more thing to pack, and none of them could be nearly so fascinating as the young woman who lay beside him. He could study her forever and still find something new—a new shade of fire or gold or copper or sunset in her hair, a new cluster of freckles on her cheek or one curiously on its own, the curve of her shoulder and the way it moved as she breathed…

Slowly, Gilbert reached out and carefully tugged the tie holding the end of Anne's braid free. So softly that he could barely feel it at first, he ran his fingertips through her hair. Anne didn't stir, and continued to sleep when he repeated the action with just a little more pressure. He was just deciding that it would be still just a little too bold to wake his beloved with a kiss just below her ear when she stirred and yawned, shuffling backward so her back was mere inches from his chest. Gilbert's voice was still low with sleep as he murmured, "Good morning." 

Anne greeted him and rolled to face him for a sweet kiss. She looked a bit perplexed when she pulled away. "What time is it?" she wanted to know.

Gilbert extended his hand behind him to grab his pocket watch. It was running slowly as it tended to after twenty-four hours, being a bit in disrepair, but it read ten minutes before seven, which meant it must be… "Seven-ish? I didn't wind this last night." 

He couldn't help a small smile as Anne had a short moment of panic about being caught by Aunt Jo when their hostess had all but instructed them to do just as they had. And then, Anne admitted, "I slept so peacefully. The one time I did wake up, I realized… I realized that I was already used to it. That if I had the option of spending every night like this now, I… I would." 

That warm feeling that Anne tended to rouse in him flooded Gilbert's chest, and he grabbed her hands to kiss them before telling her quite seriously that she was not the only one. "I would, too, so don't take this the wrong way, but I wish you hadn't said so. Now that I've heard it from you, it's going to make one more thing that much more unbearable." 

Anne entertained several short flights of fancy about staging an escape from her room at Green Gables, and Gilbert pointed out several somewhat more reasonable (if not less perilous to their reputation) solutions before Anne departed to get ready for breakfast, though not before several more kisses were exchanged. As he had the night before, Gilbert sat up slowly and got ready for the day. 

* * *

Gilbert had hoped that the familiarity of the train journey from Charlottetown to Bright River would offset his nerves. Between that and the feeling of Anne's hand in his, he was at least succeeding in sitting mostly comfortably in his seat. Every time his hand gripped hers tightly, she'd run her thumb along his, her eyes flickering to him. He was hoping Diana wouldn't notice, but she'd definitely seemed to pick up on Anne's focus rapidly shifting between their conversation and Gilbert. Still, she said nothing, seeming more concerned than anything. 

He wasn't sure whether Diana didn't know what to say or was simply just trying not to call attention to him, but either way, he was grateful for her choice. 

When the train pulled into Bright River, he could hardly get off the train fast enough. Thankfully, Diana's family were already there to collect her, so after Anne bid her a brief good bye, she sat with Gilbert, waiting for Bash to come collect them. Anne kept her arm threaded through Gilbert's, gently running the fingers of her other hand up and down his forearm. They discussed plans for the next day, and then Anne suggested that they create tokens for each other to hold, and soon enough, Gilbert was smiling gently. 

When Bash finally showed up, he greeted Anne first, then placed his hand on Gilbert's shoulder as Anne looked on, seemingly confused as to why Bash wasn't embracing him. Gilbert knew. It was the reaction he'd been half-expecting from Anne; the reaction Cole had hinted at and Martin and Dr. Oak had outright told him he deserved. Still, neither of them were about to have that argument in front of Anne. 

Bash managed to hold off until that evening.

"I don't ask for much, Blythe, but I didn't think I didn't have to ask for proof of life! Do you know how scared I was? My name's on the deed here, sure, but you're already away so much of the year… What do you think would have happened if you weren't fine? Never mind that I'd be grieving the loss of a brother; someone would have contested the deed. I'm not fully accepted here. The Cuthberts and Rachel Lynde and the Barrys won't be around forever. Someone who'd heard about the accident actually came to sound me out! 'Without Gilbert around, surely you'd rather be with your own kind,' he said!" Bash looked very much like he'd like to spit on the floor.

"I'm sorry, Bash," Gilbert said flatly. He meant it, but he was just so weary again. "I just…" He shook his head, hanging it. "You deserved more from me and I let you down." _I let everyone down._

Bash nodded. "Get some sleep. You look like you haven't had enough of that. We'll talk more tomorrow." He turned to leave the room, shutting the door behind him.

Gilbert stayed awake just long enough to figure out how to craft the token he wanted, but by the time he managed to cut scraps from the old shirts, he was too tired to complete the task. He kicked off his shoes, crawled on top of his bed, closed his eyes, and for the moment, knew no more.

* * *

_Gilbert's side throbbed. It was a little hard to breathe. He looked around. Everyone was moving slowly._

_"What was that?" someone gasped._

_"What do you think it was?!" another voice snapped. "The train's derailed. We're lucky we're not in the river."_

_Gilbert's eyes widened. He shifted to look out the window. Three train cars were on their sides in the river, and the next two dangled between this one and the ones in the river. He couldn't be sure, but he thought he could see faces and hands pressed against some of the windows of the cars in the river._

_He felt sick. Dizzy._

_"We've got to get out of here. If the river moves the cars, we're going in." The man who spoke opened the door to debark. "Those who are able, stay behind to help the more injured."_

_Gilbert helped an elderly couple who seemed shaken but uninjured out of the car. A burnt-metal smell hit his nostrils along with the scents of torn earth and too much coal doused too quickly. He could hear yelling and screaming from below, in the river. His heart was already beating fast, but his stomach churned and he bent to brace his hands on his knees. He could taste bile and stomach acid for far too long before he began to retch._

_"You done?" a man's voice asked after Gilbert gasped a few breaths of air that made him want to heave again._

_Gilbert nodded._

_The man handed him a flask. "Here. It's water, I promise. Rinse your mouth out. Get a few swigs down you. Then get ready to help. We're in for a rough time."_

* * *

Gilbert jerked awake with a strangled yelp. He was drenched in sweat, and his heart pounded like it was trying to escape his chest. _I'm here. I'm safe in my bed. I'm not at a wreck site. I'm not. I'm in Avonlea at my house with the people I love, and I'm seeing Anne in the morning and I am fine._

But he wasn't fine. Gilbert laid back and desperately tried to calm his heart and breathing, but after several minutes, he was still gasping for air.

He lurched to his feet and put his hand on his chair. It landed on the fabric scraps he'd laid over it for the bracelet his was going to craft for Anne. Sitting back on his bed, he grabbed them and started automatically laying out knot patterns. Thinking about the various weaving and tucking of fabric—what would be most pleasing and what would hold the longest—seemed to take his mind off of the reason he was awake.

An hour and a half and several failed attempts later, he had the knots tied, and an uneasy sleep was attempting to claim him again. Gilbert reached out to grab the bracelet and wrapped it around his hand. He imagined it on Anne's wrist, with her curled up against him as she'd been last night, solid and real and warm. He wouldn't be able to depend on her to keep the nightmares at bay every night for a while, but the thought that she might take some comfort from being in his thoughts as he knew he was in hers soothed him enough to drift back off to sleep knowing that the worst was past. 

* * *

* * *

_**Sunday** _

It was six thirty when Gilbert woke next. He'd fallen asleep around eight, so he supposed it made sense. 

He could hear Bash and Elijah head out the door to work on some of the earlier chores. Gilbert had thought Bash would have roused him, too. Maybe he was expecting Gilbert to get up on his own. Maybe he was trying to let him sleep in.

Maybe he was still angry.

Gilbert sighed and got to his feet to change his clothes and get ready for the day. He'd let Hazel know he'd be going on a picnic, and she'd insisted on scaring up provisions for him in the morning. He'd assured her bread and jam and cheese were the only things necessary, and he was perfectly capable of getting those. Maybe he was up before she was.

He went downstairs but, instead of going to the kitchen, he wandered into Delphine's room. She'd grown so big! He reached out a finger, brushing the back of it against her cheek. She stirred a little, but remained sleeping. It was the most precious thing, and Gilbert could feel tears starting to form.

"Oh!" Hazel stood in the door to Delphine's room. "Gilbert!"

"Morning, Hazel," he mumbled, a little embarrassed. "I can care for Delphine this morning."

Hazel looked him up and down with a caring but critical eye. "Not with that wrist, you can't," she observed. "Go out to the table and wait for me, and you can have Dellie sit with you, but you're not carrying her."

Gilbert did as he was told, and Hazel emerged with Delphine a few minutes later, presumably after Hazel changed Dellie. 

Dellie was giving him a strange look. Fair enough—he had been away for a while. "Hi Dellie," he cooed warmly. "Happy to see me?" 

"It's…" Hazel rolled her eyes as she said it. "It's 'Uncle Gilby', _doux-doux,_ " she gently reminded her granddaughter. 

Gilbert had to hide a laugh. Hazel had finally acceded to addressing him by his given name, but she used the silly nickname only because it made Dellie laugh. Thankfully, Dellie smiling and stretching her arms out at least explained his grin. "C'mere, Dellie."

Hazel plopped Dellie into Gilbert's lap and set about making breakfast. Dellie babbled happily to Gilbert, who asked her what she'd been up to and listened intently as the little girl made conversational noises. 

When Bash and Elijah came back inside, Gilbert wasn't too surprised that they didn't greet him, but Bash barely so much as looked Gilbert's way all through breakfast, and when he was done and headed back outside, all he said was "Enjoy your picnic with Anne."

"Sebastian," Hazel growled with a warning tone, but her son had already gone. "I taught him better respect," she insisted to Gilbert, who nodded and sighed. "He's upset with me, Hazel, but it's fine, really. Don't worry."

"Well, just for that, I'm sending all the apple butter with you, and you can leave it with your sweetheart. Sebastian can take his scone dry, or with something he likes less." Hazel smiled just a bit wickedly as she took Delphine. "Go get ready for your picnic."

Gilbert didn't really have much left to do other than grab the bracelet, but he knew a dismissal when he heard one. He didn't really want to be left alone with his thoughts just yet, but at least soon, he wouldn't be.

* * *

Gilbert watched as Anne unpinned her hair to lie back on the blanket they'd spread out on. She didn't braid it as she would for sleeping; instead, she fanned it out in a halo around her head. Before joining her in lying down, Gilbert took a moment to appreciate Anne's hair, dappled in sunlight. He wondered if Cole might be able to paint her thus, or if he'd know someone who would. Nothing could ever match Anne's presence, and Cole would probably make fun of him, but Gilbert didn't really care. 

Still, he spent the next while re-memorizing every freckle, every shade of blue in her eyes, every brilliant hue in her hair.

Naturally, he could be content with just looking for only so long. Thankfully, Anne had a similar attitude, but she was still more cautious than he was, it seemed, though she quickly clarified that it was out of worry for his well-being.

He wasn't going to tell her that it was indeed a little painful to hold her where she was—it had been his idea, anyway, and, slight though she was, her weight on him was a reminder that this was real and not just his brain trying to compensate for the horrors he'd witnessed.

And so, he lost himself in the feel of her in his arms, one hand in her wonderful, soft, brilliant hair, the other at the small of her back, pulling her as close as he could. Even when her hand grabbing his waistcoat accidentally put a bit of pressure on his ribs, he wasn't going to let that distract him—or Anne, for that matter—for long.

As Anne wound her way with her lips from his mouth to his jaw and then down his neck, Gilbert was having an increasingly difficult time not reversing their positions and returning the favor just yet. God, it felt good to _want_ like this again. 

And even with as few expectations as he'd tried to have, Anne still somehow managed to defy them. He'd been a little surprised that she'd decided to go past the first button on his shirt, but he was not at all about to complain. Normally, he'd have at least stopped her again, just to remind her that it wasn't necessary, but today… today, it felt like it was. The novelty of it all was the only thing that kept him from letting his control just float away for the moment. 

Still, as he switched their positions, his head cleared just a bit. She was trusting him as he had her, and he was going to make sure that he went no further than she had, but he'd have been lying if he'd said the hope that she'd rue it just a little didn't occur to him. Though he knew she'd say yes, he asked before starting to work his way down Anne's neck, as much to let her be sure of her answer as to remind himself (not that Anne would let him forget it) that he was wanted as much as wanting. 

He deliberately slowed down as he unfastened the buttons of Anne's blouse, wanting to savor the newness of it and worrying just a little what would happen if he didn't go slowly. His resolve very nearly shattered when Anne's reaction to what he'd promised himself would be the most daring kiss he'd bestow on her today was to somehow press herself even closer against him. Her gasping his name was just enough to break through the haze and lead them to retreat to the relative safety of Gilbert appreciating the freckles that were visible even when they were properly clothed. Though neither said it in quite so many words, they looked forward to a day when the more passionate displays of affection and love would be more commonplace, knowing that they would never feel less special.

* * *

They'd made their way back to the Blythe-LaCroix farm. Anne had greeted Hazel and was bouncing Dellie on her hip as the baby stared fascinated up at Anne's hair. Gilbert sat on the porch and watched with a smile on his face. 

"What's got my Dellie so happy?" Bash wanted to know as he walked up. "Hello there, Miss Anne."

"Hi Bash." Anne smiled at him, but he was looking at Gilbert with a bit of a stony expression. Gilbert had told her about Bash's lecture the previous night and cold behavior this morning on the walk back from their picnic. She bumped Bash's shoulder gently with hers. "I know how hard it was to wait without word. And I know that it's… more complicated for you. Just remember that it wasn't easy for Gilbert, either." She paused for a moment, then, almost offhandedly, continued as she handed Dellie back to her father, "For what it's worth, I find that a hug often helps to mend things." 

Bash couldn't not smile. "If Blythe wants to come here and give his goddaughter a hug, I suppose I won't complain." 

Gilbert wasted no time getting to his feet and wrapping his arms around Bash and Dellie. Bash nudged him away with his shoulder for just a moment to hand Dellie to Anne so that he could return Gilbert's embrace. 

"Bash?" Gilbert wrinkled his nose. "You smell like manure." 

Bash barked out a laugh and pulled away. "And yet, still better than a shipboard latrine!" He took Dellie back from Anne. "At least this one doesn't complain."

"Give her time," Gilbert warned. He turned to Anne, who was beaming at him, and returned her smile. 

"Alright, you two, if you're going to stand there making eyes at each other, the least you can do is see Anne back to Green Gables. I believe she was promised to be home before supper to help out, and you're still expected to be following the rules, so get." Bash made Dellie wave at them, and Gilbert took Anne's hand in his and set off.

* * *

* * *

_**Monday** _

If Marilla was wondering how much of a fixture Gilbert was going to be at Green Gables this summer, it seemed she wasn't going to ask.

Gilbert hadn't been at all surprised when she'd welcomed him as warmly as she had the previous day. He hadn't noticed that Anne had gaped just a little when Marilla had momentarily abandoned her plum puffs to greet him, but then, he wasn't aware that he'd knocked on the door at the most crucial step. Anne explained it a few minutes later when Marilla was back to working on the pastries and Gilbert, sitting in the parlor with Anne, was asking her why she'd jumped to her feet and taken over stirring for the thirty seconds Marilla was distracted. "Plum puffs are very finicky. You have to make sure the choux—the pastry—comes together smoothly, so you have to stir constantly." She smiled at Gilbert, just a little teasingly. "I'm not sure whether it says more about you or me that she felt you were worth abandoning the dough to my care." 

"It's always a competition with you." Gilbert rolled his eyes fondly. He smiled down at Anne, who was looking up at him hopefully. They both stole quick glances to make sure Marilla still had her back to them, and Gilbert started leaning in. 

Just as his lips brushed Anne's, the door opened again. Anne and Gilbert sprang apart as Rachel Lynde's voice announced, "Marilla, I've come with news about Muriel! I think I've finally found the man for her—" She cut herself off upon catching sight of Gilbert. 

Avonlea was a small town, and of course Marilla would have spoken to her best friend about why Anne wasn't home, but Gilbert had been hoping to avoid awkward stares and nosy questions as much as possible—it was why (along with being tired) he had skipped Sunday service. He'd known his luck would hold for only so long, but he'd hoped to perhaps ease back into it with friends rather than the town busybody. 

"Hello, Mrs. Lynde," he greeted quietly. 

"Gilbert. It's good to see you." Mrs. Lynde stepped into the parlor and squeezed his shoulder. "I'm relie—I'm very glad to see you're well." 

Gilbert waited for her to continue, but nothing more seemed forthcoming. "It's good to be back." 

Marilla, seeing her friend putting forth admirable effort in trying to bite back her questions, gracefully stepped in. "I'm sure you two don't want to listen to us prattling on. Go on and take a walk, and be back in time for supper." 

Gilbert stood and, without thinking, offered his hand to Anne, who took it after only a second's hesitation. She got to her feet, and he led them both out the door. As he turned back to close it, he saw Mrs. Lynde looking after them, not looking at all bothered by the hand-holding she'd only months before grumblingly deemed "indecent". Instead, her eyes were soft, and maybe just a little sad. He couldn't help feeling a little annoyed that her change of heart, no matter how temporary, had been induced by something beyond his control rather than by his everyday respectful behavior, but he decided to amuse himself by wondering if Mrs. Lynde's newfound liberality extended to him publicly kissing Anne. 

He quietly voiced as much to Anne when she noticed his expression shift from bothered to amused, and she laughed before offering "Well, if you'd like to find out, I wouldn't be averse," a bit of a wicked glint in her eyes. 

Well, now he wanted to kiss her just for the sake of it. He sighed. "My better judgment says not to push our luck just yet, but you are not making the idea any less tempting." 

Anne made a thoughtful noise. "Well, if you can feign respectability up to the treeline, I think a bit of temptation can be indulged." 

"I suspect your 'Propriety is _such_ a bear' remark is going to become a common refrain for us." Gilbert grinned as Anne gently knocked her shoulder against his, trying very hard not to smile and failing miserably at it. 

"Yes, well, being with you is worth being proper when we need to be," Anne drawled. 

"High praise from you," Gilbert flirted back. He pulled Anne's hand up to kiss it briefly. "Just don't go getting too proper. " 

"Never," she promised. With that, she led him into the trees. 

* * *

* * *

_**Tuesday** _

Gilbert wasn't sure what else to do. He'd slept fitfully last night, caught between dreams of the train wreck as it was and losing Anne to it or having her be the last thing he saw… all of the visions had been horrible. And no matter how much he told himself it was just his brain processing both the trauma of the wreck and the amount of time he was spending with Anne or how tightly he held the handkerchief she'd embroidered, it had only just kept him sane. 

He'd managed to get through the few chores he was sure he could do easily enough, and things between himself and Bash were mostly mended, so they'd been able to talk as normal. But for all that Gilbert was trying, he just didn't feel normal. 

Bash had nodded at this revelation, pointing out that it had barely been a week since the accident, and only half of one since Gilbert been home. "You're medical student. You know things like this take time. And honestly, being around someone you love helps. So when I tell you to spend time with Anne, I'm not saying it just to get you out of my hair; it's because, well, I'm right." He'd smiled when the nod to Gilbert's denial made Gilbert huff out a quiet laugh. "Go on; we handle things here without you the rest of the year; what's another week until you're feeling more yourself again?" 

He hadn't needed to tell Gilbert twice, but the pit of misery in his stomach had rapidly expanded on the walk to Green Gables, and he didn't like it. 

Anne had just returned from having tea with Diana, who was planning a reunion of sorts for their class on Thursday: it was to be just a short picnic during the day (sans moonshine, she'd added, getting another quick laugh out of Gilbert). She'd seen the look in his eyes, though, and, taking advantage of Marilla being out in the barn to make some inquiries of Matthew, she made quick plans to spend the night in the barn once Jerry and Matthew were in for the night. 

* * *

By the time Gilbert arrived a little after nine, Anne had hauled some blankets up into the hayloft, and had grabbed a small spread of a few slices of bread and cheese and some water. She held Gilbert and listened as he told her through sobs about the nightmares, her reassurances that they weren't real choked with her own tears. 

Gilbert tried to apologize precisely once, but Anne stopped him with a hard, fierce kiss. "It's more distressing when you pretend everything's fine and it clearly isn't," she told him. "You've never been good at hiding what you're thinking. I was just always very good at ignoring it." She smiled just a little when Gilbert's lips twitched like he was trying to smile before continuing just as seriously as she'd been before, "I'm not ignoring it now. We are facing this together." She leaned in again for a much softer, longer kiss. Another followed, and soon, the pair of them were gasping for breath between more passionate kisses. 

Upon breaking apart for air (but still embracing tightly), Gilbert murmured, "We should get to sleep." 

Anne nodded against his shoulder and drew back to lie down on the blanket she'd positioned in one of the stacks. Gilbert extinguished the lantern he'd brought with and laid down facing Anne, pulling the other blanket over the top of them. He slid his hand up Anne's shoulder to her cheek and leaned back in for one last kiss before sleep claimed them both. 

* * *

* * *

_**Wednesday** _

Gilbert's eyes snapped open. There were noises—footsteps coming up the ladder to the hayloft! He wasn't going to have time to scramble behind the haystack, and he first started praying that it wasn't Mr. Cuthbert, then, trying to figure out who else it might be and unsure if he'd need to shield Anne from some sort of intruder, switched to hoping it was Matthew after all. He pulled his hand from Anne's and pushed himself to sit up as a dark head appeared, topped by a cap. _Jerry!_ _Of course!_

Gilbert let out a sigh that was half relief, half renewed mortal terror. Jerry did a double-take, nearly falling off the ladder as he reached the top. "What are you doing here?" he hissed. Seeing Anne still asleep next to Gilbert, his eyes darkened just a little bit, and he advanced a step. "Did you—"

"What? No! No—we just... slept." Gilbert ran a hand through his hair. "How much time do we have before Matthew catches us up here?"

Jerry glanced back toward the house. "Maybe five minutes. You had better leave. I can wake Anne."

"How well do you think she'll react to that?" Gilbert wanted to know.

Jerry grimaced. "Fine. I can buy you ten minutes."

Gilbert nodded up at Jerry, smiling slightly. "Thanks, Jerry, I owe you."

"Just don't let this happen again, and we'll be even." Jerry sounded appropriately exasperated, but he was trying not to smile as he climbed back down the ladder.

Wondering whether "this" was sleeping in the hayloft with Anne or simply getting caught at it and not sure he wanted to bother clarifying, Gilbert turned his attention to Anne and ran the back of his hand down the side of her face. "Anne, sweetheart, wake up," he murmured.

Anne blinked groggily. "Wh—time is it?"

 _Time for me to remember to wind my damned watch when we're doing this, for all the good it'll do._ "A little after six."

Anne was instantly wide awake. " _Six?_ What if someone's been out here and _seen_ us?" She wailed quietly.

"I'd think they'd have raised a ruckus if that were the case," Gilbert replied reasonably, not about to tell her what had truly happened, lest the aforementioned ruckus actually occur. "But I'm not sure how long our luck will hold, so I should leave."

Anne nodded decisively, but her eyes betrayed her distaste for parting, and Gilbert was certain his were doing the same. "I'll... see you later then?" Anne asked.

Gilbert gave her a kiss that, while brief, was no less ardent for its duration before promising, "Absolutely, you will." He got up to leave, but Anne grabbed his hand and got to her feet.

"I love you, Gil." She raised the hand she held and pressed a kiss to the palm before letting it go.

Gilbert curled his fingers to his palm to hold the kiss in, then brushed Anne's hair aside to kiss her forehead. "I love you too, Anne." He hurried over to the ladder and, with one last longing look, descended and began his walk back to the Blythe-LaCroix house. Bash wouldn't be able to prove Gilbert hadn't slept at home, but he'd probably give Gilbert hell for this little stunt anyway, he thought as he ran his hand through his hair to pick bits of hay out of it.

It would be well worth it.

* * *

* * *

**_Thursday_ **

Anne hadn't mentioned that she'd talked with Diana about keeping the talk about the train to an absolute minimum, but Gilbert figured she must have, and he was grateful for it. The only awkward moment had been when Moody and Ruby had arrived at the picnic and Moody had hailed Gilbert, stating that he had a question. Ruby had clutched her beau's arm tightly and shaken her head, Anne had paled a little, and Diana looked like she was ready to cut in when Moody started, "I noticed when you were here over Christmas that Anne calls you 'Gil'."

Gilbert could not figure out where this was going. "…Yes? She does?"

"So, we could have been calling you Gil all this time, too?" Moody sounded just a little upset. Ruby was now visibly confused, Diana was gaping, and Anne was trying to hide a relieved smile.

"I mean, it'd seem a little strange now, but I suppose so, yes," Gilbert replied.

Moody sighed. "So you're saying that we could have been making fish jokes about you all along and none of us ever thought to?!"

The entire class was silent for a moment, and then Ruby shrieked, "And yet you all said it was inevitable when Charlie made fun of me!"

Everyone dissolved into laughter, except for Charlie, who looked a little abashed.

"Yes," Diana gasped through tears of mirth, "And then _you_ said he should be named Charlie Stone because he was as dense as one!"

Soon, all the old class jokes about each other were going around: Nobody ever being able to spell Moody's name; the Pauls constantly switching assignments and trying to insist that the more poorly marked one was the other's; someone posting on the take notice board a seemingly sincerely meant but very off-the-mark notice comparing Josie Pye to a joe pye weed (nobody had ever admitted to it, though that might have been due largely in part to Josie loudly expressing the desire to slap the poster); the fact that every time Mr. Phillips had roared " _Shirley!_ " at Anne, it had sounded like he was yelling at someone else and more than once, Anne had pretended confusion just to annoy him further. The atmosphere of the picnic had relaxed significantly, and for the afternoon, it was as though they'd never left Avonlea.

Gilbert had noticed that when Anne wasn't at his side, she was always in a position to catch his eye, and was readily doing so, giving him quick, tender smiles that he gratefully returned. Jane told them to stop being so sickeningly sweet at one point, only to have Diana point out that Jane had spent the whole year mooning over a young man in the library and sending him the same looks. 

When the picnic broke up a couple hours later, Gilbert and Anne were strolling leisurely back to Green Gables, hand-in-hand, still laughing over some of the jokes and still exchanging the same sweet looks Jane had chided them for. 

They lapsed into a comfortable silence, and then a few minutes later, Gilbert spoke. "It really feels like everything will be alright." 

Anne squeezed his hand and looked up at him. "Of course it will be." 

Gilbert tugged on her hand to pull her to a stop, turning to face her. "I don't think I've thanked you, Anne. You've been there when and how I've needed you, and honestly, I don't know…" He took a shuddering breath. "I don't know what I would have done without you," he admitted, lifting a hand to her cheek. 

Anne nuzzled into his palm just a little. "I'm not going anywhere, Gilbert; I _promise_. I said we were facing this together, and I meant it. I know you'd be here for me, too. That you will, when I need it, because someday, I will. It won't always be easy, but we'll always have each other." 

"You have this pinned in?" Gilbert directed his gaze at Anne's hat. 

Anne looked a little bemused. "No; why?" 

She got her answer when Gilbert swept her hat off her head and pulled her in for a very thorough kiss, not at all unlike the first one they'd shared all those months ago. 

It was some time before they parted, and even then, they held each other close, Gilbert's forehead resting lightly against Anne's. 

"I love you, Anne," he murmured. 

Anne smiled gently and whispered back, "I love you, too, Gil." 

**Author's Note:**

> Holy Moses, that was a real marathon! I didn't think Gilbert's POV would be as long as Anne's. I was WRONG. It was difficult to write at points, in part due to life circumstances just not being conducive and in part due to panic attacks not being fun to write as someone who has experienced them. But I'm glad I did this. I'm glad I got to write more supportive, slightly angsty, rule-breaking Shirbert, and everyone giving them a pass for it because it served my purposes.
> 
> My eyes got a bit fatigued editing this, so if you see any weirdness, please let me know!
> 
> Thank you, as usual, for taking the time to read! I thrive off comments, and I try to respond to all of them in a somewhat timely manner, so if you are so moved, please leave one! You can also find me on Tumblr at js589.
> 
> 'Til next time!


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